


silent night

by Waywarder



Series: Simply Having an Ineffable Christmastime [7]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21708901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waywarder/pseuds/Waywarder
Summary: In which Aziraphale works to find comfort in silence.Part of Drawlight's 31 Days of Ineffables challenge!
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Simply Having an Ineffable Christmastime [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558789
Comments: 5
Kudos: 60





	silent night

As was their custom, they chattered their hearts out all the way back to the bookshop. They laughed uproariously at this or that as Aziraphale opened up a bottle of wine. Over the wine, they regaled one another with stories, slowly but surely continuing the process of filling in their gaps of each other’s vast histories. (“You were at the opening of the 1939 New York World’s Fair? _Really?_ ” “‘Course, angel. One of us has to get out from time to time.”) 

They talked and drank and clinked glasses (everything was toast-worthy these days) and laughed well into the night. The world grew dark and still around them until finally Crowley’s last barking laugh echoed off the walls, and was met with no reply. 

They sat together on the sofa in silence, breathless and fidgety and warm and sleepy and wide wide awake. It was all still so new, and so unbelievable, and their old habits fit the comfiest. The talking and the carrying on and the drinking. Performing for one another, staying alive for a laugh. 

Aziraphale was too aware of his own hands, clasped neatly in his lap. It was just where they had always gone. He started to open his mouth, to say, “My dear boy, it’s dreadfully late. You ought to go to bed.” To say anything. To fill the silence. 

_Don’t miss a thing,_ whispered a little challenge of a voice in his head. 

In the silence, he heard Crowley shift on the sofa. He felt Crowley’s eyes on him. He smelled red wine and old books and forgotten tea and his own cologne and Crowley. It seemed that Crowley was everywhere, which, of course, he was. Always had been. 

Aziraphale liked words. Loved, as you well know, all the talking. 

It occurred to him that, in this moment, each and every word across each and every language failed to measure up to how he felt, sitting beside his beloved in the dark of winter, living in the marvelous anticipation of a kiss.

Crowley, serpent that he was, did not so much climb onto Aziraphale’s lap as glide onto it. Crowley took Aziraphale’s face in his hands, leaned down, and kissed him softly on the forehead. Then, he took Aziraphale’s head and hugged it against his chest, nestling his chin against the angel’s curls. Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley’s waist, and breathed deeply against the demon’s chest.

Aziraphale liked words. So, he was learning to detect them in forms other than the written one. Learning to decipher _I love you so goddamn fucking much, Aziraphale_ from the soft stroke of Crowley’s fingers against his hair. 

Aziraphale pulled away, and tilted his chin up. Which Crowley, much more of a natural when it came to the unspoken, plainly heard as the _Kiss me, please, my dear_ that it was. And so Crowley did, bringing their mouths together. 

And when Aziraphale, still a little shy and worried after all of this time, tentatively licked his tongue into Crowley’s mouth, Crowley understood the _I want you. Please know that I have always wanted you_ that cried out there. And Crowley’s fingers less softly now in his hair answered back _I know, angel. I’m yours._

And the night carried on, and they listened to one another, fervently interpreting one another’s bodies in the still darkness. And when their methods of translation at last proved, for the moment, satisfactory, they lay together there on the sofa. 

_I love you I love you I love you._

_All is calm, all is bright._

**Author's Note:**

> This almost got a little spicy, but I'M SO SCARED. Thank you for reading my fade-to-black nonsense! You're great. Have a great day!


End file.
